This Pen
by thecupcakeimp
Summary: Flames. Feathers. Alone. Dark. Light. You…? Who are you? Even after all this time, I don’t know who you are. You’re a secret. I want to know that secret. And still, you are hidden deep within some mist, some strange curtain or veil I can’t pull aside.
1. Chapter 1

_Flames._

_Feathers._

_Alone._

_Dark._

_Light._

_You…?_

_Who are you?_

_Even after all this time, I don't know who you are. You're a secret. I want to know that secret. And still, you are hidden deep within some mist, some strange curtain or veil I can't pull aside. I can see your shape, your shadow, but not you._

_I don't know everything I'd like to about you._

_You never cease to amaze me. I know that I can always believe in you, no matter what._

_Because when the piece pile up and it's just the king, when there are no escapes and the king tumbles to the ground, I know you'll be there. You told me so, so you'll be there._

_I suppose I love you._

_Although, it's only a suppose._

_I don't really know if I do or not._

_I don't feel like I'm old enough to know, despite everything I've been through, all those different hells, some deeper than others, but… Love is something I can't ever be really sure about. And you're the worst of all of them._

_Sebastian._

_You really are._

_I suppose that's why I love you. Because you never change, yet you never cease to change. You're unpredictable, you're like the ocean. Once a storm hits you are unstoppable, and above all else—_

_You never lie._

_I know it is because of the contract, but I don't know._

_I never know, with you._

_I suppose you're beautiful._

_I like it when you play the violin. You're quite exceptional, as expected. I hated playing the violin. I always expected too much of myself. I never could appreciate the gentle movements, the grace, as much when I played. Only when you did. When you do._

_Do, or did?_

_It's hard to tell which tense to use these days, since I'm starting to feel the end drawing ever closer._

_Each day is one day less._

_I don't like to be one of those sorts, one of those people who say that you should live life to the fullest because you don't have all that long. Those people sicken me. Hatred and revenge are my life. How could I understand their sort of life? It's filthy in its own way, along with those stupid people obsessed with 'purity'. Those people are really the worst._

_Purity._

_Disgusting._

_Even as my pen writes the word I can't help but feel revulsion boiling inside me along with hatred._

_I don't know why I'm hiding this from you._

_It's silly._

_Everything I'm writing you already know, don't you?_

_Young Master. Bochan. My Lord._

_Is that all I am to you? Am I just your meal? Am I just… a boy to you? Who am I to you? To everyone?_

_All these stupid questions._

_Foolish insecurities that one thinks of while writing by light of a candle and the moon far too late into the night._

_Sebastian…_

_There, you've done it again. You knew I was awake again, and brought hot chocolate, did not ask what I was doing, and left. I don't understand you. You're not a father figure to me, no, that sort of thing is silly. You're not exactly… a friend. I don't know what to call you. You're more than just my butler, my hell of a butler, you stupid, arrogant, snotty, idiotic, shameless, cunning, sly…_

_Demon._

_I love you._

_I hate it, I do. I hate that I love you. I don't know if it's love, or some sick thing that's come to be because of the contract, but…_

_I don't know._

_I suppose I love you._

_Suppose._

_Even so, it's strange to think that I do. Love is such a foreign word I don't know if my lips can form the syllables anymore. Love is like a smile. I've forgotten. Love is like a laugh ringing through a room. It's not mine._

_So, as the pieces pile up, will you show me? Will you see if I can still speak the word, Sebastian?_

_Will you somehow bring it out of me with some sly smirk, some sort of promise, a deal?_

_Perhaps._

_I should stop writing this. But I can't. I'm just writing. Nothing else. I don't even know what it is I'm writing anymore. My eyes, red-violet and as you told me once, the azure of the sky, are drifting to the gardens, the moon._

_And yet I still write._

_Perhaps I'll write more tomorrow._

_There's so much blood on my hands._

_I hate it when that happens. When the fabric of my gloves when I go out gets soaked in it, literally or figuratively… Blood. The color of roses._

_The crimson of your eyes._

_Perhaps that's why I don't think of blood as being disgusting anymore._

_It reminds me of you._

_Of whispers late at night when I can't sleep, of protection, safety, of some strange beauty and elegance that doesn't belong here, on this earth._

_Would you stop smiling like that?_

_Like you know more than me? It pisses me off. I can't stand it. Every time you look at me you seem like you—you're just mocking me. It's maddening. That- that smile. That damned smile. The one that—that—_

_I hate it._

_Just like I hate how you never go away, just like I hate how I never want you to go, how you can't go, how I'd hate it if you left._

_It makes me feel stupid._

_Like maybe you do know more than I do. You… probably do._

_And every time you look at me with those infuriatingly beautiful blood-crimson eyes…_

_I look away._

_I look away because I know you._

_It's like you can see inside my head, and you know everything. You're prying me apart and testing what you see, trying to see if—if I'll taste any good after all._

_Souls._

_Souls are stupid things. I feel as though I don't have one, after… after everything. I keep saying that, 'after everything'._

_And as the end draws nearer, I say it more and more often, 'after everything'._

_Sebastain._

_Your name flows easily, it ripples like a calming ocean, and still, Michaelis, you hint of danger. Everything about you hints so subtly of the danger and power that you are._

_Sebastian… your name is interesting. I don't know why I called you 'Sebastian' but it seemed so fitting. One day I finally looked it up. Your name is from the Roman name __Sebastianus which meant "from Sebaste" in Latin. Sebaste was the name a town in Asia Minor, its name deriving from Greek __sebastos, "venerable". Venerable itself is an interesting word; 'commanding respect because of great age or impressive dignity; worthy of veneration or reverence, as because of high office or noble character.' Noble character indeed._

_You strike a noble figure, for sure. You in your fancy trim suit. You're so vain, Sebastian. You really are. But, I suppose (I'm supposing a lot lately) that I'm victim of that sin too._

_Sin._

_Is it really that big of a deal? Everything is trivial when the end is drawing… closer._

_When I'm starting to feel your gaze intensify, when you—you draw so close. Like you are the end itself._

_You are the end._

_The end of me._

_I've never liked endings, but it seems all that I'm good at. Ending things._

_So I'll keep ending until the end._

_And loving you in that strange way, I suppose._

_The love that is not love._

_With all these 'after everything's and 'I suppose's, I thought I might actually get somewhere._

_Understand something about myself._

_But I was wrong._

_I've come to realize things that I… didn't want to. Like my 'I suppose' love for you. And… I want that less than ever. I've always known that I'm alone, always known that. But you…_

_You._

_You're there._

_With me._

_Until the—_

_The end._

_My end._

_It's almost dawn. I've been up too late again. You'll probably let me sleep in. You always know when I do this—stay up this late. And you'll have tea and breakfast ready just in time, won't you? And your blood-crimson eyes will glance from me to the window, back to me, and note the circles under my eyes. 'Up late, Bochan?' you'll ask, and I'll say nothing. I'll drink my tea. 'Something troubling you?' you'll ask. 'No, what is the schedule for today?' I'll ask, and then there will be no more questions directed at me._

_Dawn._

_A beginning._

_A beginning in light._

_I've never belonged in the light, though, have I, Sebastian?_

* * *

A/N: I wrote this at one in the morning. I have no idea what the hell it is. owo It came from nowhere. It confuses me. I couldn't stop writing. I was thinking, "Oh, this'll be a nice little drabble, about a page-" NO. Five pages. I don't get it. At all. I like it though. ;AAAA;

Reviews go straight to my heart guys. I won't lie.


	2. Chapter 2

_Yes, My Lord._

_Young Master._

_Bochan._

_Ciel Phantomhive._

_Do you think I am blind to the words you write with your pen so late at night? You never ordered me not to read your letters not meant to be read. Perhaps you should have._

_You and your notions of love and hate._

_Just as dark as the rest of you._

_And you are mine._

_It does not matter what anyone says, what anyone does—you have been mine since the day the contract was formed. You think you lord over me, you think that you have some sort of power over me, do you not?_

_Such a sweet little lie you've forced yourself to believe, Bochan._

_Like the sweet little lie your engagement to Elisabeth is. It's terribly amusing to watch the girl fret over you, and try to make you smile._

_Smiles, after your trials and hardships, are not your forte, are they? I will admit that even I have attempted to make you smile. A true smile that reaches your eyes. Not one that holds contempt, malice, and danger behind it as the wielder of a demon, no. Not the haunted one you sometimes bear, the one that only speaks of the pain you have borne and endured._

_A smile._

_Perhaps you and I have together ruined any hopes of one crossing your young porcelain features again._

_That is fine._

_A happy smile would not suit you anymore._

_It would be a lie—a lie, Smile._

_All your smiles are lies._

_For being one to hate lies so much, you tell them fairly often. You betray and crush without mercy, barely lifting a finger, and then take afternoon tea. You will lift the heel of your boot and crush any vermin that attempt to crawl up your smooth legs._

_So watch the night sky, Young Master._

_Watch the stars as they silently sing your lament._

_Watch the moon as it grins and watches._

_You can sense that time is drawing ever shorter, and you know only too well what that means._

_Death._

_You do not like the idea of death, do you?_

_You are not afraid._

_You are never afraid._

_Do you hold regrets?_

_Do you cling to them; do you stay up so late to think on them? To attempt to find a way to finish them off? You have always been good at endings._

_So I will keep you here, I will keep you safe._

_Until the last moment, until your purpose is complete._

_And then you will have to give yourself over to me, completely, my Lord._

_And I will take no orders from you._

_So, Ciel, you think my name is fitting?_

_Have you ever bothered to find out the meaning of your own? Ciel is the French word for sky, did you know? And as each bit of whatever innocence you have left slips away, your sky blue eye grows a little dimmer_

_Do you welcome the end?_

_In the darkest of hours and your strength wanes, you hold tightly to me. Ciel. The sky has a ring of freedom to it, but you are so bound in chains that you cannot escape. You are truly trapped. You watch and wait. You cling desperately on to something that you can trust in, something steady, anything. And yet it is me you seem to trust. The contract bids me not to lie on your orders. I will never lie to you._

_And still you whisper orders that bind all my truth to you._

_Will you ever open your eyes?_

_Can you not see those around you who love you?_

_Or do you turn a blind eye in hopes that when I steal you away they will not be hurt?_

_Do you think that they know?_

_Ciel, Ciel. So many questions you hate to answer. You ask yourself what you are to me. Shall I give you an answer accompanied by a smile?_

_You know as well as I do that every word this pen writes is truth._

_You know the answer, though._

_You are not just a soul that I care for, I am not that mindless._

_The contract has bound me to you, and would these years be boring without some sort of relationship blossoming between us? Certainly._

_Do you ask yourself where your heart has gone, to think such things?_

_You don't seem to._

_Not when your slender fingers end up tangled in my hair, not when your little face tilts back and your back arches so pleasantly. You are no Botticelli painting, you are far too ruined—and yet you still are undoubtedly beautiful._

_Let the tea distract your senses as I watch, let its aroma entrance you as a smile glides across my lips._

_I am waiting for the sound of the King clattering to the ground. Waiting to hear the crown shatter as it crashes to the ground beside the bodies of your pawns that have piled up. And as your knight, I will wait to usurp you, ever so patiently. I will wait for my Lord, as always._

_And beside your small form, I will lie, even then._

_Do you even know that you are falling?_

_Yes. I am sure you do._

_You know how my eyes have begun to gleam. You asked me one night as you ran your thin fingers along the side of my face whether or not I loved you. Your eyes were hard, icy, and almost angry._

_Just wait, my Lord. You know that I do._

_Are you blind to it? You must be._

_The small amount of years you have wandered the earth have not allowed you to learn the signs, to learn how to respond. I will teach you, as I have taught you many other things. So run your fingers down my back, let me breathe in your sweet scent, the scent of the lilies that previously adorned your hat. Yes, my Lord. Let yourself give in for an amount of time._

_Sometimes I believe you do not know how delicate you are. Ever so easily I could just break you, mind, body, even your deliciously waiting soul._

_Still, you trust me to keep myself in check._

_To protect you._

_That is the duty I have been charged with._

_Protection._

_I want to, not simply because you are the container of that sweet soul._

_Because after the connection has deepened between us, I have come to love you._

_Yes, demons can love._

_But close your eyes and rest, Bochan. Let the night envelop you in its arms, let the darkness spread everywhere._

_Do you feel alone?_

_You and your barriers, shutting the world out, no matter how polite the knock. But let me guide you out, let me keep you safe; let me show you how to open your eyes the proper way. Teach you to see._

_So watch the moon all you want, but eventually, you will have to open your eyes to watch the sun and make yourself believe some more sweet little lies._

_You might belong in the dark, but there will always be light you will have to endure, Ciel._

_Yours, until the end,_

_Sebastian_

_

* * *

_A/N: Long time no see, . owo A reviewer of This Pen gave me the idea that a reply from dear Sebastian would be cool- and it was pretty fun to write. XD I'm quite glad I did. It isn't as long as Ciel's letter was, but oh well. C'est la vie. All my stories got put on hold for a little while because I had to get ready for a convention, and get my cosplays together, and all sorts of really crazy stuff. owo Vacations and all kinds of random stuff happened. ;AAA; I'm sorry guys. I really am.

Pickles


	3. Chapter 3

_Sebastian,_

_I doubt that you will find this. Honestly, I don't really care whether you do or not. Again, I'm writing to try and clear my thoughts, not specifically to you._

_You know better than anyone else that I have spent my life drowning in my sorrows. I'm not entirely sure whether or not it has made the prospect of my revenge any sweeter, but I know that the taste is resting on my lips. I know that the end is soon. My purpose is almost fulfilled, I am nearly dead. However, you never said that I would die, when you took my soul. But what sort of person would I be without it? Would I be a ghost?_

_Would I become like you?_

_So many questions, but I'll never ask them of you._

_There is one chance, only one, that I did not take, my only regret._

_You can see me right now, can't you? You know how I look as I write this, frustrated that I have a regret, hesitant to put it in a more permanent form, hesitant to give it solidity in the form of written words upon this parchment._

_I never took a chance with you._

_Yes, I let you force gasps from my lips, let you touch my skin where no one else could, I even let you drag screams from me but not once did I take a chance. Not when you saved me from all the places I ended up being bait to solve a case, not when anything happened. I didn't like to take chances with you._

_Even after all this time you know me best, and it scares me, how well you know me. I'm not scared of you, no, this is different. You know how I hate to get close to people- and you are close to me. I hold you in my heart- I do. Perhaps it is the contract, perhaps it is some sick sort of love that has developed between you (my killer?) and I, but whatever it is, it scares me. I don't want to be close to you, the one who will take my soul someday soon. So horribly soon._

_No, not horribly. I'm prepared, I've come to terms with my death. I'm waiting for it, now. I'm curious as to how you will take my soul, but I don't mind so much anymore. I used to be terrified. I'll admit it. But now, I'm not. It is just another thing that will happen to me, and that's that. Nothing more._

_I'm getting off topic._

_A chance with you._

_What would it have been, you ask?_

_Telling you that I loved you._

_I know you would smile, probably kiss my forehead, and say, "Bochan, I am yours," in that way that you say everything like the smoothest of silks from China. You might hold me for a moment, but that would be all. Probably._

_So, you claim that demons can love?_

_Do you love me?_

_You didn't mention that in what you wrote._

_I suppose I'll find the end and never know, but that's okay. I know it is because I didn't take that chance, I didn't want to. You were—are—the only person that I can trust, so I can't take that chance. I can't let myself. _

_But then, don't they say that two can keep a secret if one of them is dead?_

* * *

A/N: Ah, these letters are fun to write. I wasn't really expecting this third part, but these really are fun. As usual, thank you very, very much for reading this. And reviews are very much appreciated and loved forever and you get a cookie :D


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